Fell Fire
by Finch
Summary: Silmarillion-based. The sad love story of Aegnor, brother of Finrod, and the mortal woman Andreth. Part 2; Last Chapter up.
1. Default Chapter

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FELL FIRE

Knowledge of The Silmarillion and the _Athrabeth Finrod ar Andreth_ in The History of Middle-earth, Volume 10: Morgoth's Ring, is strongly recommended.

Disclaimer: Completely dependent on Tolkien, to whom I am ever indebted. 

PG-13 rated for character death.

'This siege of Angband cannot last,' warned Fingolfin, my father's brother and the High King of the Noldor of Beleriand. 'Morgoth must be attacked before he grows too strong for us. He sits not idle in his great stronghold; who shall tell what force he is preparing and what evil he devises even now in the depth of his mines, where the fires never cease to burn and his slaves and minions labour to our undoing?'

From where I dwell in the pine-clad hills of Dorthonion my eyes can see, beyond the plain of Ard-galen, the towering peaks of Thangorodrim that rise above Morgoth's fortress. His threat is ever present to my mind, and Fingolfin's plea did not fall on deaf ears here. Yet elsewhere the people of the Noldor lived in peace and contentment, loath to take up arms lest many of the long lives of our kindred be cut short, be it in victory or in defeat. I was one of the few who would heed the High King's warning. Not even his own sons did, and therefore the foe remained unchallenged.

'This may be our undoing,' I said, echoing Fingolfin's message while I poured the eldest of my brothers a goblet of wine. We sat beside the fire in the privacy of my rooms. Finrod had come north unexpectedly, and glad though I was to see him, his coming renewed my sense of foreboding. 'We must deal the blow, not wait for it to fall. This peace begins to smell foul.'

'You are always most eager to fight,' he said, staring into his wine without drinking, his brow creased as if he read a doom in the dark red liquid. He seemed unusually subdued. 

'Is it so strange?' I asked. 'Did we not lead our people to these lands to take revenge on Morgoth for slaying Finwe, our sire and grandsire? At least Fingolfin has not forgotten.'

Finrod looked up, his eyes flashing; a fire burns in him, too. 'And I have? Is that what you mean to say?' 

'Have you not?' I retorted, hearing the bite in my own voice.

He drank of his wine, and suddenly he smiled, for he is not easily offended. And none smile quite like my brother Finrod does; his smiles can disarm anyone save the foul creatures of Morgoth, and some of the sons of Fëanor, alas. But this time the smile faded too quickly. 

'You know the answer, Aegnor,' he said. 'It was more than a thirst for revenge that drew me here; seldom are we moved by one desire alone. When we departed for these mortal shores I dreamed of wide lands full of unseen wonders. Ever curious, I found many things to delight me and some to grieve me. But never can I forget our quarrel with the Enemy, for it, too, haunts my dreams, and more so with each passing season.'

It was plain that my brother had not sought me out for the sake of talking and drinking by the fireside. 'What have you come to tell me?' I asked.

Finrod put down his cup and rose, turning to the restless flames. Finally he spoke. 'To convey a message, for one. Though when you hear it you will not like it, I deem.' 

'Tell me nonetheless,' I urged him.

'The message runs thus: _Tell him not to be reckless. Not to seek danger beyond need!' _

It was well that my cup was almost empty, or I would have spilled much of its content. The room disappeared. I saw a maiden with raven-dark hair on a morning in the high hills of Dorthonion, smiling in the sunlight, braving the shadow of her own mortality, inviting me to walk with her. I touched her hand, for my heart went out to her. 

Yet I did not tell her.

The image curled up like burning parchment. I was back in the room, grateful that my brother knew to avoid the naked pain that must have shown in my face. 

'You have seen her, then,' was all I could say.

'As you have not, though she dwells near you?' 

It was nigh on seventy years of the sun ago since I last met her, drinking in her face from the mirror of Lake Aeluin. In the twilight, a star had adorned her hair. 

'I go there no more,' I answered.

Finrod tore his gaze from the fire to look at the flames of gold that burn on my head; my hair will never ripple down my back like his long tresses do, though we share the colour. He still avoided my eyes, or what he perceived in them – unless it should be that he did not wish me to see what was in his eyes: the image of a bent and toothless old woman, the ruin of youth and beauty.

'Yes. I spoke with the woman Andreth in the house of her kinsmen, beside another fireplace,' he said at last.

'When was this? On your way here?'

He shook his head. 'No. Forty-five years of the Sun ago.'

'Why did you not come sooner?' My brother is not wont to restrain his tongue for half a mortal life span when speech is called for, unless his mind is sorely troubled. 

Finrod threw a log onto the flames and turned towards me. 'I never thought you would heed those words, Aegnor.' 

Indeed, for how can a warrior avoid danger and remain a warrior? Yet I guessed there was another reason why he had kept his silence until now. 'She died.' I said, a taste like ashes of a fire spent filling my mouth. 'That is what you came to tell me.'

He shook his head. 'No. Old though she is she clings to life, knowing that you and she look up at the same stars still. But not long now.'

Not long. 

This, my embittered heart knew, was why our love was doomed to remain unfulfilled in the very hour of its awakening. The ways of our kindreds are sundered. Mortals wither like leaves, whereas Elves by nature have the life of Arda. Dying, mortals leave the circles of the world, whereas Elves are bound to it until it ends, and can regain life to walk its paths once more. How could Andreth have borne to see my love for the maiden change to pity for the hag, slowly and inexorably? How could I have let her suffer the agony of seeing me remain young and unchanged? 

'What more did she say?' I heard myself ask, against my better knowledge.

'She feared herself scorned when you turned away without declaring yourself.' Seeing my hurt Finrod added earnestly: 'But I said to her that if your heart had ruled you would have taken her and fled with her from Morgoth's shadow, forsaking your own kin, forsaking our war with the Enemy. And I told her why you could and would not do so.'

'Do you not presume too much?' I snapped, unable to restrain myself, even glaring at him.

'Save your wrath for our Enemy, my brother,' Finrod said. 'Do I not know your heart? I see that your pain and bitterness vie with hers, and I would comfort you as I comforted her by saying there is hope beyond her death and yours, beyond the end of Arda, though all seems dark and doomed now.' 

Then I knew the truth behind his coming. _Not long now…_ My brother was here to bid me farewell. He had seen my death as clearly as I had; he knew that it would be soon. And his last words told me he had also seen what I had known for years: that I would never leave the Houses of the Dead to re-enter a world where Andreth was no more. Slowly, I rose, and when our gazes met I saw that it was so. 

There was no more need to speak. Finrod stepped close, and we embraced. 

After he left I pondered his words for a long time. They come back to me once more now that the siege of Angband has failed. Morgoth has scorched the grassy plain of Ard-galen with a sudden fire, devouring those that dwelled there, leaving naught but choking dust and charred bones. The Noldor and their human allies fight to brave the onslaught of black foes following the flames, but we are greatly outnumbered. I lead the vanguard, knowing we will only stem the tide at terrible cost, and not for long. But I am a spirit of wrath, my fire being all the more fell for the pain that fuels it. I shall wreak havoc yet among our foes before I am blown out.

Yet underneath my wrath there is a burning regret. I would not declare my love and flee with Andreth because I would keep faith with my own kin, and because I feared to see her wither. Yet now in the face of death my heart is unguarded, and I find myself wishing I had grasped what lay to my hand. 

Seldom are we moved by one desire alone, as my brother said. Mercifully he did not add that when desires clash, all choices bring grief. And wisely, he did not tell Andreth, the only woman I will ever love, that I would regret my choice before the end, even though he must have foreseen it.

Tomorrow, I will fall. When I do, Andreth will know I shall nevermore look at the stars of Arda Marred, and close her weary eyes.


	2. The Uncrossed Gulf, 1

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THE UNCROSSED GULF

The other side of Fell Fire, Chapter 1

Based on The Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth, in: HoMe, Volume 10, Morgoth's Ring

Disclaimer: Characters, places and background story all belong to Tolkien 

'Across the gulf that divides our kindreds!' said Andreth. 'Is there no bridge but mere words?' And then she wept again. 

'There may be. For some. I do not know,' Finrod said. 'The gulf, maybe, is between our fates rather, for else we are close akin, closer than any other creatures in the world. Yet perilous is it to cross a gulf set by doom; and should any do so, they will not find joy upon the other side, but the griefs of both. So I deem.'

(Athrabeth, p. 323)

Knowledge of the Athrabeth and my fic 'Fell Fire' before reading this story is recommended, though not strictly necessary. 

The Black Foe has attacked after years of peace. A great battle rages close to our homes. My nephew Bregolas, lord of the House of Bëor, has taken a great part of his warriors to hasten to the aid of the Dorthonian Elven princes, the sons of Finarfin. His second son, Angrod, and the youngest, Aegnor, the Sharp Flame. My beloved.

He will fall in this battle, fighting in the forefront, heedless of peril, reckless, perhaps seeking danger beyond need. When his flame dies his spirit will flee to the Halls of Mandos, to remain there until the end of Arda. For Aegnor loves me, and will never cease to love me, and therefore he will not leave the Houses of Awaiting to see the bright stars crown the hair of any Elven maid. 

Words like these his eldest brother Finrod spoke to me, half a lifetime past, and I knew and know them to be true. He sees Aegnor with the eyes of his brotherly love, and he has the ability of the Eldar to sight ripples of grief beyond where the river of time bends away from mortal view. By speaking thus, he tried to bridge the gulf between Elves and Men to his best ability, building pillars of comfort and friendship, understanding and wisdom, hope, and the pity that is near to love. 

Yet there was no crossing of his bridge possibly for me. Too many of his piers were dead wood, brittle, unable to support the weight of my bitter grudge. For I was fourty-eight years of age, and turning into a hag. I still have to do my best not to be wroth at him. _'I fear the truth will not satisfy thee_,' he told me, all those years past. _'The Eldar have one kind, and ye another; and each judges the others by themselves - until they learn, as do few.'* _

Perhaps he deemed himself to be among the few. Perhaps he had indeed learned a little - which would be more than I did, for I have always remained envious of the Elvish longevity and I still fail to fathom their sadness. 

Yet whatever Finrod had learned, he missed one point, and so I misled him. There is a darkness in humans, and he who is said to have seduced our race in days long past was always a master of lies.

A young maid I was when I met Aegnor, brother of Finrod. Fair and tall he was, stiff locks of hair rising from his head like golden flames as he rode along. He seemed hardly older than I was, not yet five-and-twenty, and at first I kept him for a mortal, one of the people of Hador Lorindol of Dor-lómin. 

Peace reigned in those days, and women could walk the woods of Dorthonion without dread. I was alone that day, roaming the high hills and singing a song when he chanced upon me. Instead of following the main road he rode down the forest path that would lead him to the silver-blue crystal of lake Aelin and the dwellings of my kin. In a clear voice he greeted me, asking me how far it was to the halls of Boron, whom he wanted to visit.

'Not far,' I told him. 'You will reach them long before mid-day!' I drew near to have a closer look at him, for his voice had stirred something inside me. It was when he gazed down on me from his dappled grey and I met his eyes that I saw he was no mortal man. I had not encountered many Elves in my life, but enough to know at once that the rider before me belonged to that undying people. My heart began to beat faster. The Elves are fair to behold, and he was more fair thay any, I deemed. Moreover, he had to be a Noldo, an exile from the Blessed Realm of Valinor, for it is said that only they who dwelled there have such piercingly bright eyes. I stood there, staring, and smiling like a fool. 

He returned the smile. _'Mae govannen,_ _adanwen*_. I am heading for Boron's halls. Do I guess rightly that you belong to his people?'

'You do,' I replied, adding 'my lord,' as his looks were lordly indeed. 'Do you wish me to show you the way?'

He shook his head. 'I know the way. I have visited them before - when they were Baran's halls,' he added when he saw my surprised look. 'You were not yet born then, I think.'

'Baran was still among the living when I was born,' I murmured, taken aback. 'But I do not remember him.' 

A silence fell, which he broke by saying: 'You are quite far from home here. My mound can carry us both, if you wish to return.'

I did, now. 'If it please you, lord.' 

He inclined his head. When I stepped closer he bent forward, took me under my arms and lifted me effortlessly to sit before him on the horse. He rode barebacked, as most of the Eldar do, and it was good to feel the animal's strong body beneath me, almost as good as it was to feel the Elflord's strong arm supporting me. 

The horse set into motion without the rider having to urge it on, or so it seemed; such is the way Elves have with their steeds. 

'Do you speak to it in your mind?' I inquired.

Not needing to ask what I meant he replied: 'Speaking is not the word. My friend here knows what I want of him. But tell me your name - or no. As I am the guest I ought to name myself first. I am Aegnor, son of Finarfin, brother of Finrod of Nargothrond.'

A lord indeed, and brother to a King - for that, I knew, was what Finrod was. Though being of the line of Bëor used to make me proud, my lineage paled besides his, as I knew my mortal attractiveness must pale beside his elven-fairness. 'My name is Andreth, daughter of Boromir, Boron's eldest son.'

'Then I have found worthy company,' Aegnor commented to my surprise.

'I am but an insignificant young maiden,' I said, though among my own people I was considered thoughtful and well spoken for one of my years. 

'I am young, too, according to the measure of my kindred,' he assured me - but he laid no false claim to insignificance. And I did not ask how many years he had seen, for I wished to retain the illusion that he was truly not much older than I was.

We descended the stony slope towards the glittering chill of lake Aeluin in spring. At the lakeshore, where the path turned east, the horse halted. 'Look at those choppy waves; with this wind the lake resembles the sea,' Aegnor said. 'The tang is missing, but if I close my eyes I can persuade myself that I smell it. The sun has not yet reached her highest point; shall we enjoy the beauty of Aeluin for a while?' 

'How long does an Elvish while last?' I wanted to know.

His mouth curled. 'It depends. But do you know the tale of my kinsman Elu Thingol and his bride Melian of the Maiar, who are now King and Queen of Doriath?'

I shook my head, for though I knew their names, I had never heard their story. 

'Let us dismount and sit down, and I shall tell it to you,' he said. 

So we settled on the shore to watch the waters of Aeluin, the hills beyond, and the pale blue sky above, while the breeze ruffled our hair. I closed my eyes, but as I had never seen the sea in my short life, I could not imagine its smell. When I opened my eyes again and looked at Aegnor, he began his tale. 

He spoke of Elwë, or Elu, a leader of the Telerin Elves during the great journey to Aman: how he set out one night to find his friend Finwë of the Noldor, and how passing alone through the wood of Nan Elmoth he heard the nightingales sing, and among them the most beautiful of all voices. An enchantment fell on him, and filled with wonder and desire he forgot his people and all else that was on his mind, and he pursued the sound until he was lost in the darkness beneath the trees. _'But he came at last to a glade open to the stars, and there Melian stood. Out of the darkness he looked at her, and the light of Aman was in her face. _

She spoke no word; but being filled with love Elwë came to her and took her hand, and straightway a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.' **

Had a mortal told me such a tale, I would have disbelieved him. But as I listened to the music in the Elflord's voice and was carried along by the cadence of his words it seemed to me that I saw Elwë and Melian before my very eyes in the starlit dusk of ancient days ere Man awoke in the East of the World. I followed in Elu's footsteps while the music pulled him forward; it seemed to me that I felt his awe when he beheld the beauty of Melian in the starlit glade, and sensed her wonder at being captured by a body caught in flesh. And I knew that everything had come to pass as Aegnor told me. I marveled; it touched me deeply that one of the divine race of the Maiar should join with one of the Eruhini to share everything she had with him and bear him a child, like so many of us who are born to be women. 

For that was how he concluded his story, and when the enchantment passed and I saw the teller again instead of the tale, I could only sigh wordlessly. He looked at me, seemingly earnest, but with a glint in his eyes. 'That is how long an Elvish while can last.'

That unbound my tongue; casting a glance at the sky I said: 'What spell did you lay on me? For I see that the sun has moved far past the point of mid-day now, so we must have been sitting here longer than the length of the tale seems to warrant.'

'A minor enchantment, nothing to be compared with Queen Melian's.' Aegnor rose and held out his hand to help me up. He laughed aloud now. 'My whiles fall far short of hers.'

It was his laugh that undid me. 

(tbc)

* well met, human maid

**cursive texts taken from the Athrabeth & from the Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 'Of Thingol and Melian'. 


	3. The Uncrossed Gulf, 2

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THE UNCROSSED GULF

The other side of Fell Fire, Chapter 2

Warning: UST

When Aegnor walked towards his horse I did not immediately follow, preferring to watch his graceful steps and enjoy the way he held his head. It was only when he turned back to me that I moved to join him. While I approached him he suddenly said: 'Shall we walk the rest of the way?' 

I did not understand then why we could not share his horse again, but I think I do now: he dreaded what the feel of my body against his would do to him - or me. My disappointment must have been visible, for he added: 'Surely Boron's halls are not that far now?' For the first time his voice held a note of uncertainty. That, if nothing else, told me our encounter had not left him unaffected. 

As I did not want to seem lazy, I complied, saying: 'Indeed they are not.' And so, we proceeded on foot, Aegnor's horse following behind of his own free will. We spoke of nothing worth remembering - that is, I merely recall we talked for the sake of talking, and in my case, for the sake of listening to his melodious voice.

My father and grandfather greatly rejoiced to see the Elflord, receiving him with joy. My mother promptly began to arrange a feast in his honour, assigning me various tasks that kept me occupied for the rest of that afternoon; meanwhile my father and grandfather spoke with Aegnor about matters high and grave. At the banquet, I was not seated in his immediate vicinity, but at least I could see him and observe him at will. Though I had heard it say that Elves prefer wine, this Elf drank freely from the mead I helped brew. He did not appear to be affected by it like our men were save Boron my grandfather, who drank sparsely.

After the meal, the tables were removed to make room for dancing. At first, Aegnor seemed more interested to join the minstrels, borrowing a lute* to play some Elvish tunes for us mortals to dance on. He looked to be amused by our young men's mead-induced antics and the shrill giggles of us, maidens. At some point he began to play faster and faster, until one by one the dancers began to run out of breath and staggered aside but still the pace of his playing increased, as if his fingers attempted to get ahead of our feet or as if he was testing our mettle. And I thought I saw a spark in his eyes that was not entirely benevolent. In the end only my brother Bregor** and I were left, sweating and panting, yet determined to go on. 

That was when he stopped. We collapsed against each other, while everyone laughed and clapped, Aegnor putting aside the lute to applaud us with the rest.

After all had regained their breath he also joined in the dancing, taking turns with all the girls until it was my turn. While we moved to the measure of the music I watched his face, discovering an almost imperceptible flush, and when my gaze caught and held his I realised he was not all that sober, though it had no effect on his motions. Only the stiff hair on his head strayed in all directions, making him look like a sun in disarray. He grinned at me, and there it was again, that same spark, not benevolent but not malevolent either, merely strange and slightly disturbing. 

Then his eyes truly encoundered mine for the first time, and abruptly the grin faded and I saw him pale, just before our turn was over and we both had to dance on with someone else. 

He stayed a fortnight, and during most of that period he managed to avoide me. I failed to understand. What was it I had perceived in his face, if not love? Why then, did he shun me - because I was mortal and too far below him? The tale he had told me on the lakeshore entered my mind. Was Thingol not as far below Melian as I was below Aegnor? Nonetheless she took him for her spouse. Why had he told me this story, if not to say that such gulfs could be bridged? Was it only women who stooped, or was the gulf between us mortals and the undying greater than all others, too wide for any bridges to be built?

Those few times I managed to cross his path and exchange a few words with him, we were always in the presence of others. He always remained courteous, but the spark, the flame I was looking for, was carefully veiled. Until that last evening, when I found out he had gone for a walk along the lakeshore. 

When I set out it was not yet quite dark, and in the twilight I found him precisely at the spot where he had recounted the tale of Thingol and Melian. The lake was quiet and smooth now, a mirror rather than a choppy sea, and Aegnor was gazing at it, seated on his own cloak at the edge of the water. On seeing me, he pressed his lips together, but he did not speak. 

'Can I also use your cloak to sit on?' I asked boldly. 

He moved aside, still without a word, and I sat down. We remained silent, I because I did not know where to begin, he because he did not want to encourage me, as I deem now. For a long time we both gazed into the water reflecting our faces, until the stars began to appear overhead. When the silence became unbearable to me I slowly began to turn my head towards him, for I had to ask him the questions tormenting me both night and day. 

'Do not move!' he said, almost anxiously. 'As you are sitting now, your mirror image in the water is... I see a star caught in your hair,' his voice fell unto a whisper, '... it makes you look like an Elf-maid, Andreth.'

It was the first time he called me by my name. I remained perfectly still, loath to spoil the vision for him, but my mouth opened itself and I heard myself say: 'Could you not briefly pretend that I am one, Aegnor?' 

Aegnor's breath hissed, and when I did turn my head to gaze into his eyes it was there once more, the spark, brighter than ever, kindling me beyond help. An indefinite time passed, an Elvish while that could have lasted moments or hours. We threw ourselves into each other's arms, we kissed, and his flame scorched me. They seem so distant, these lofty Elves, shining down on us like the stars that do not spread heat. But it is not so, he was not, not there and then; a fire leapt up in him that frightened me like nothing ever had, and yet I wanted nothing so much as to be burned to cinders by that same fire. And burn I did when I felt his hand caress me, stroking my breast, and I drew him down with me on the soft turf. 'I love you. Take me. Here. Now.'

He kissed me even more deeply then, and pressing his body against mine I could feel the hardness between his legs. His hand pulled up my skirts far enough to reach under them and caress my bare thigh, sliding up and in, while my fingers fumbled awkwardly at the lacing of his leggings, eager and apprehensive at the same time. 

Then, suddenly, he groaned, and with a visible effort he rolled away and sat up. 'No,' he said, his voice thick with anxiety. 'We cannot wed, and I will not abuse your grandfather's hospitality by taking something he would not offer for free.' He scrambled to his feet. 'I am sorry.' His voice broke. 'Forgive me.' And he turned and ran away.

He never said he loved me. 

Utter desolation engulfed me then, for I knew I could never love another, not while he lived... With a bitter laugh I rose and walked home, slowly, like one of the aged of my race. 

I never saw him again, though I kept hoping against hope he would return before it was too late for me. So I do know what hope is, oh yes, I do, Finrod. But some hopes die, even on us mortals, while we die away from those that do not. 

His brother did his utmost to disabuse me of the notion that Aegnor thought me too lowly or himself too lordly. It was the war, he explained, his brother's sense of duty, the customs of the Eldar not to get children in times of danger, the fear of an Elf to watch his mortal love whither and die. For my sake, so he argued, Aegnor would fight the Enemy who had marred Arda and thereby my human race; fight him recklessly, heedless of peril. Hoping to fall, I thought secretly, for Finrod made it abundantly clear that his brother suffered no less than I did, telling me he would never leave Mandos for my sake. As if I had asked for it, as if I wanted to mar his soul because mine was marred! I wish I had seen then what I perceive to be true now: that Aegnor simply did not know what to do or where to turn, that all his Elven wisdom completely left him in the face of this unprecedented thing: the love of an undying Elda for a mortal maid. 

In my turn I told Finrod I would have given all for a year or even a day of the flame, without telling him what had nearly happened before Aegnor banked the fire. I doubted his brother had told him everything, so I left the most aching moment out and refrained from baring my soul completely. Taking my words at face value, Finrod patiently told me why it could never have been, speaking of high dooms about which I cared not a whit. I knew it was brotherly love that made him defend Aegnor even against me, who certainly loved his brother no less - but he used too many arguments. What clumsy archer needs more than one arrow to put down a wounded animal? 

Of course I would never have asked of my love that he should watch helplessly while I grew old and withered. Of course I would not have asked of my love to be my crutch when my feet could dance no more. 

What I wanted, was to bear his children.

When Finrod and I spoke about these matters, I was fourty-eight, a maid turning into a hag without ever having become a mother. And undoubtedly he was aware of it. _'This is a time of war, and in such days the Eldar do not wed or bear child_,' he said, giving me the opportunity to have my say. But did he really expect me to touch the wound that hurt most, the burn that ate deeper into my flesh with every passing year - at a time when it was beyond healing? Besides, what was I to say? Call his brother a fool for only seeing a lovely young maiden? Call them both fools for missing the crucial point? 

The gulf we spoke of was no wider than a child can bridge. To us mortals, a child is visible, tangible hope, unlike the distant visions entertained by a deathless race. Mortals can live on, oh yes, we can - in our children and their children, long after we leave this world. That is what, being Elves, they failed to grasp. Throwing it at Finrod was useless. But I should have said it to Aegnor. Alas, I did not have the courage, for fear he should reject me once more. Yet this, as I sometimes think, was the one thing he might have understood, the only thing that might have opened his eyes. 

Therefore, in the face of death, childless old Andreth daughter of Boromir has to acknowledge the fault is hers. And I can but forgive him, forgive them both, Aegnor and Finrod. If there is anything to forgive, for they did love me, both of them, in their own different ways.

So, if there is indeed a Father of All, I would beg him to have mercy on all his children.

*no, not another harp! That's Finrod's favourite instrument. Though I don't know if there were lutes in First Age Middle-earth. The range of instruments named in the Silmarillion is rather limited.

**father of Barahir and grandfather of Beren.

The ideas expressed by the main character of this story are not necessarily correct, or in keeping with Aegnor's views as found in _Fell Fire_. It is what Andreth tells herself shortly before her death - her personal truth . 

I used to be angry at Tolkien because I thought he overlooked the issue of the children. But then I discovered he didn't. Finrod mentions them, and Andreth is 48 - definitely past the age where you can still start a family. This is by no means a coincidence; I think Tolkien knew exactly what he was doing. Another interesting point is that Andreth never really agrees with Finrod, which also says a great deal.


End file.
